


December 11th: Santa Hat

by IneffableToreshi



Series: Good Omens Advent Calendar 2019 [12]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Advent Calendar, Angels are Dicks, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Comforting Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley is a Good Boyfriend, Dining at the Ritz (Good Omens), Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt Aziraphale (Good Omens), Ineffable Advent, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Protective Crowley, Santa Hat, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-11
Updated: 2019-12-11
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:01:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21707125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IneffableToreshi/pseuds/IneffableToreshi
Summary: This is Day 11 of my Good Omens Advent Calendar for 2019, in which Aziraphale recalls the angels being dicks and Crowley gets uber protective.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Good Omens Advent Calendar 2019 [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1550176
Comments: 14
Kudos: 107





	December 11th: Santa Hat

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Holidays everyone! I hope you enjoy my Good Omens Advent Calendar! Consider it my Christmas gift to the fandom! And if you want to give me a gift in return, please leave me a comment (I live for them!) and if you're really awesome check out my other stuff by going to my blog over at http://traceytobin.wordpress.com! <3

"Are you certain I don't look silly, my dear?" 

"Angel, for the last time,  _ no _ . You look festive. And handsome. And entirely adorable."

Aziraphale's cheeks turned pink even as the corners of his mouth fought their way upward.

They were sitting at the Ritz, sharing a few drinks after having enjoyed a rather lovely dinner, and the angel was fidgeting self-consciously with the little white puff hanging from the end of the Santa hat he'd been wearing all afternoon. Crowley, for his part, hadn't addressed the hat other than to give the puff a little tug when he'd stolen a kiss before their dinner date, but Aziraphale seemed to have decided to himself that every semblance of a glance in his direction meant that people were laughing at him. 

"I have to ask," said the demon, leaning back in his chair with his hands crossed over his chest, "if it makes you feel so awkward, why are you wearing it?" There was an instant drop in the angel's face; Crowley immediately backtracked and reworded. "That is,  _ I  _ think you look great, and I genuinely think you should be more confident about your appearance in general, because you're honestly the most beautiful being in the universe-"

"Oh, Crowley…" Aziraphale scoffed, but he was turning red all the same. 

"-but," the demon continued, holding up a finger, "you clearly feel a bit uncomfortable, so I just don't understand why you don't just take it off if it's bothering you?"

Aziraphale heaved a sigh and continued to fiddle with the little white puff. He smiled, but it was a bit of a soft, sad smile. "It's...I mean, I suppose it's a bit of a rebellion," he said quietly.

Crowley raised an eyebrow over his glasses. He reached out for his tumbler of scotch, took a sip, and inclined the glass toward his angel as though to say, 'go on then'. 

"It's silly," Aziraphale insisted, forcing the smile to remain on his face even though it was clear something swirling around in that lovely head of his was doing awful things to his confidence. "It's just that, well, I've always loved the holiday season so, but, um...I used to...get made fun of. A lot."

Crowley's expression remained perfectly stoic, but if anyone had been paying close attention they would have noticed a few stress fractures appear in the tumbler beneath his grip. "Oh? By who?" he inquired as casually as he could manage. 

"Who else?" Aziraphale replied with an anxious little chuckle. "The other angels. They've never understood the concept of human holidays in general, but Christmas in particular seemed to be the one they latched onto as an example of the depths of human foolishness. In which, of course, I was included for being odd enough to want to celebrate with them." His gaze had fallen to the table as he spoke, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the stem of his wine glass. "Gabriel and Michael visited the bookshop once when it was close to the holidays, and I happened to be wearing a hat like this at the time." He cringed, remembering the laughter. "Among other things they suggested to me that if I was so keen on celebrating like a human I should ask Santa for a more attractive corporation."

There was a loud smash that made Aziraphale jump, eyes going wide. Crowley's upraised hand was a mass of dripping liquor and blood. The larger chunks of the remains of his tumbler fell to the table while a few smaller pieces lodged themselves quite deep into the demon's palm. Even with his glasses on the fire in the serpent's eyes was more than evident, as was the slight-but-noticeable tremor going all through his body. 

Several patrons had turned to the noise and a waiter was rushing over with purpose. Luckily Aziraphale had the sense of mind to send out a few tendrils of suggestion so that all the humans around them were suddenly quite distracted by more personal matters. 

"Crowley!" the angel hissed, reaching over to take the demon's hand and force the clenched fingers open. "What on Earth did you do that for?" He gingerly began picking the pieces of glass out of the other's skin, not entirely certain what would happen if he tried to miracle them away while they were technically attached to Crowley's body. 

The demon hardly seemed to notice that anything was wrong with his hand, never mind that it was also being tended to. Behind his glasses his pupils were mere slits, and a hint of fang was showing beneath lips that were curling into a growl. "I'll fucking kill them," he rumbled low in his throat. "I'll tear them limb from limb and bury their heads at the bottom of the Atlantic."

"Oh now, honestly dear," Aziraphale scolded. He dropped a particularly large shard of glass onto one of their empty dessert plates. "You needn't get so violent about it."

"No, even better," Crowley considered with a truly demonic grin. "I'll find a way to bind their powers, and I'll chain them up and keep them as pets, and-"

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow as he deposited another shard of glass. "Crowley dear-"

"No, no," Crowley interrupted. "Best idea yet: I'll-"

"Crowley!" 

The admonishment was loud and stern enough to not only snap the demon out of his revenge fantasy, but also to require the angel to perform another miracle to shoo away the humans' attention again. 

Crowley blinked at Aziraphale with wide eyes and a sheepish set to his mouth. The angel glared for all of a moment before sighing and allowing a soft smile to push at his lips. 

"I appreciate the thought, my love," he assured the demon. "But I'll not have you picking fights with any angels on my behalf, thank you very much."

Crowley opened his mouth to argue, but Aziraphale gave him a sharp look to warn him that the decision would certainly not be in his best interests, and he quickly closed it again. 

They sat in silence for a while, the only sound the little tinkle of bits of glass being dropped to the dessert plate. Aziraphale was focused intently on his task, but Crowley had eyes only for his angel. He gazed at the gentle curve of his cheeks, the sweet pink of his lips, the fluffy white curls that were so wonderfully soft, like feather-down. And his eyes...oh, how Crowley loved to stare into his angel's eyes. So kind and lovely and compassionate, yet also full of a strength Crowley had never seen in another being in all of creation. 

He wanted to say something... _ needed  _ to say something. He needed Aziraphale to understand that those...those  _ bastards  _ had no idea what they were talking about and that-

The demon swallowed hard and forced himself to breathe. No, he decided. This wasn't about  _ them _ .  _ They  _ could go fuck themselves. This was about  _ his  _ angel. The only angel who mattered.

Aziraphale had just finished with the glass and run a finger along Crowley's wounds to heal them when the demon spoke. 

"Aziraphale...you know I love you, right?"

The angel looked up with surprise at the unusual tone with which the question was asked. He was still holding Crowley's hand, and now he clutched it a little, as though worried that something bad was coming. "Well...well of course, my dear," he said slowly.

Crowley reached over with his other hand so that Aziraphale's was now encased between the demon's. He let his glasses slide down his nose just a bit so that the angel could see his eyes. "And you know that means your corporation too, right?"

Aziraphale made an incredibly valiant attempt to school his reaction, but Crowley had been watching carefully so he saw the little cringe and the way the angel's eyes flickered with something like shame. In immediate response Crowley squeezed his angel's hand hard. "Aziraphale, listen to me," he demanded, though his voice was soft. "I need you to understand this, okay?" He waited until Aziraphale gave him a tiny nod to show that he was listening, and then the demon loosened his grip enough to tenderly run his thumbs along the angel's captured hand. 

"I love you, Aziraphale. And I would love you no matter what form you were in, you can make absolutely no mistake of that. But angel...I also love  _ this  _ form. I love it  _ so  _ much. And I don't love it just because it's you who's in there. I love it because it's so fucking beautiful. I love your soft skin and your beautiful hair. I love the strength that's hidden under the warmth of your arms and chest. I love how comfortable it is to curl up in your lap or lay against your belly. I love the way your eyes crinkle when you laugh and the way your nose crinkles when you're annoyed with me. I love how your lips taste like spun sugar and hot cocoa. I love that you can somehow manage to look handsome and adorable and kind and like a bit of a bastard all at the same time. 

And you know I could go on all night like this, but now you're crying, and I've already caused enough scenes for both of us this evening." Crowley finished with a soft smile that was just a bit of a smirk, and released Aziraphale's hand in order to reach up and swipe some of the tears away from his sweet, angelic face.

"Thank you…" the angel said, barely a whisper, as he leaned into Crowley's touch.

Crowley leaned forward to place a gentle kiss on his cheek. "No need to thank me for the truth," he insisted. And then, with a grin, he added, "Thank  _ you  _ for talking me down from mounting a frontal assault on Heaven's gates."

Aziraphale laughed out loud, the sound a bit wet and sniffly, but lovely just the same. "You're very welcome, my dearest."

Grinning and thoroughly pleased with himself, Crowley reached for the little white puff on Aziraphale's hat and gave it a gentle tug. "You know," he said slowly, "I bet this would look even better on you if, for instance, it were the only thing you were wearing." 

The angel's eyes widened noticeably, and his tear-stained face flushed a beautiful pink. A little "Oh!" fell from his lips just before he bit the lower one, considering the demon's suggestion. "Well, I suppose there's only one way to find out."

Crowley's grin couldn't have gotten any wider if his life had depended on it. 

"Cheque please!"


End file.
